submitted by Hannah A.
The Prayer
I was fearful of going through postpartum again… but I was also hopeful. Hopeful because this time I looked forward to journeying though this part of childbirth with a baby in my arms. Last time I faced postpartum, I was also grieving for the loss of my sweet baby girl who was stillborn at 39 weeks. I prayed and dreamed and hoped I’d never have to suffer this kind of pain again. This horrible nightmare of loss, with the physical complications in healing on top of it, was something I still marvel I survived at all.
The Lord answered my heartfelt prayers and gifted me with the homebirth that I wanted, and most importantly a living baby to love and care for afterward. However, I soon discovered that though it was a beautiful blessing and exactly what my mommy-heart desperately needed, it still wasn’t easy… Not in the least.
My intention with sharing my story is not to scare my readers out of ever wanting to have a baby, but to equip your minds with the correct expectations of how difficult becoming a momma truly can be. It was not something I was prepared for…
The Beginning
Irinaiah was born on a gorgeous mid-autumn day in the crazy year of 2020. I woke in the dark to the start of labor; the sun rose in the midst of the worse pain ever; and before noon my bright-eyed daughter cried her hello and warmed my arms, mending so much of my broken heart. She was here! But then began the longest and most excruciating 4 months of my life. Pregnancy after loss was scary and my entire labor was beyond intense, but what I went through this postpartum was honestly the worse physical pain I have ever known. I was so happy my baby was safely in my arms, but besides that I was sure I was going to DIE. Death is an exaggeration to be sure, but in the days and nights that passed, it was the closest thing I could describe my life to be like.
As my beautiful 8 pounds 13 ounces of blessing covered my chest and we snuggled after birth, my midwives cleaned me up, helped me deliver the placenta, and checked me over for tearing and blood loss. I tore mildly enough that I didn’t need stiches; I was so thankful! I did, however, lose borderline too much blood. I felt alright at the time and got up and around without fainting, so we assumed I’d be just fine without medication. Unfortunately, I am sure that this set me back enough to only have made other things a smidgen worse. Like… my strength to recover from birth, as well as the immune system I needed to fight off the dreaded COVID-19.
The Journey
Literally the day after I delivered my miracle baby, I came down with chills, a 105 fever, and the worse headache ever. I also had severe pain in my breasts. I was SO sick, and assumed it was either COVID or Mastitis, or quite possibly both. I totally lost my senses of taste and smell for nearly two months. I became so extremely weak. Between sickness, breastfeeding, and a baby who basically never slept. I was down to pre-pregnancy weight three days after delivery.
Breastfeeding was a nightmare. I quickly realized because of the constant pain in my breasts, as well as the frustration on Irinaiah’s part, that nursing was not going well. For the first month or so, I had mastitis often. It would hit me hard and so fast I didn’t have time to prepare. Out of nowhere one side would become tender, whether it was touched or not. I would feel chills coming on, and then all of a sudden, I’d be in bed struggling to get warm, hugging a heat pad, running a 105 fever for four-five hours, and shaking uncontrollably. Each time we were ready to rush to the ER, only to have the fever finally start going down. During these episodes I would force myself to sit up and pump every 1.5 hours to try and pump out the infection. I would then spend the next 24-48 hours diligently pumping myself dry every two hours in terrible fear that it would happen again. Nursing was impossible at this point. I would pump, and thankfully Irinaiah took a bottle very well. She took bottles often throughout the those first few months, when I needed to give my blistered and bruised nipples a break.
On top of everything, my breasts were so extremely sore from adjusting to breastfeeding. I took sunflower lecithin to help with the milk duct clogging, but there was nothing to take away the burning of blisters. Not even nipple cream helped much. I worked hard to help Irinaiah with her latch. I had a few chiropractor appointments for her, and I also had my friend and birth doula, Ivy, help me for a few hours. But it was all torture. I have inverted nipples… And I figured this was the main reason for most of my issues. It was almost as if my skin was attaching my nipples to the inside, and it all needed to break and stretch and loosen until eventually they were able to be manually protruded while Irinaiah latched or I massaged them outward. It took FIVE WEEKS for the blisters to be tolerable and for nursing to become smoother. Otherwise, I was literally sobbing nearly every time I fed my baby, and I was shocked beyond any sort of belief by how hard it all was.
Somewhere between 3-4 months breastfeeding finally became EASY, fun, and a special time for Irinaiah and I to enjoy together and to touch base. If it wasn’t for the support and encouragement of family and friends, and the fact that we were living with my mom and dad at the time, I would never have been able to stick to breastfeeding. I would have given up. I would have gone with formula. But I am SO thankful every day that I stuck to it and was able to provide for my baby the best God-given nutrition there was for her. And I can vouch for anyone who says the second time it’s easier, because it is!! Breastfeeding my next baby was a DREAM COME TRUE.
And speaking of dreaming… My crazy girl woke up to nurse every 1.5-2 hours… day and night… for MONTHS. Those first few months as I fought mastitis and pumped often after her feeding sessions, it felt like a treat if I ever got three hours of sleep in a row. I woke up every morning feeling like a zombie. I felt sick most of the time…. Like someone was drugging me. I was emotional and irritable. And it didn’t help that my daughter thought bedtime was at midnight and mornings started at 7:00am.
The Emotions
I can admit that during the first two or three months I struggled to find meaning in life. It’s hard to feel optimistic and in love with your baby when you’re doused with so much pain and deprived of even more sleep. I knew I loved my baby… but I didn’t FEEL love for her, if that makes sense. Not for several weeks. I was in survival mode… grasping at any spare minute I had to eat, sleep, or shower. I barely had time or energy to brush my hair in the mornings, let alone keep my eyes open to enjoy extra snuggles and kisses with my baby. I had the “Baby Blues” for sure… not necessarily full-blown postpartum depression, but definitely the blues. It wasn’t so much that I wasn’t happy… I was only desperate. Overwhelmed. Drowning in chaos and exhaustion.
Besides struggling to live every-day life and taking care of a newborn, I was desperately missing my husband, Elijah. I remember only a few weeks after Irinaiah was born, I was bawling my eyes out to my mom because all I wanted to do was sit and relax, hold Elijah’s hand, veg out on pop corn and watch a movie. I needed to grab onto some kind of normalcy in life again… I will never forget the few hours I was able to do that. My mom literally scooped up my sweet babe in her arms, told me to go spend time with Elijah, and said she’d keep Irinaiah with her. I did just that, and it was the best medicine to my soul! Even if it only lasted two hours. Another major help with my emotions was taking my vitamin B supplement. Since then, I know this vitamin to be my “happy vitamin”; it works wonders on the mood!
The Blessing
Every postpartum story is different for every person. And no two will be the same for the same person. I now have three postpartum journeys in the books, and I can honestly tell you all three are more different from one another than I ever imagined to be possible. There are some things more difficult and other things more beautiful about each one.
I have already painted you the worse part, but the most BEAUTIFUL part of Irinaiah’s story… is that she was my rainbow baby. I had a baby to hold during the healing process after delivery. And although it was difficult taking care of a baby on top of all my other struggles, it healed my heart more deeply than anything else had been able to; and for that, her story is the most wonderful reminder to me of God’s Grace, His Love, and each and every one of His perfect blessings in this imperfect world.